The Seventh Sunday After Pentecost
This afternoon I joined a few sisters from Relief Society for an organ concert at the National Cathedral. Since moving to Washington over two years ago, I have longed to attend a concert and take a tour of the cathedral but did not have the opportunity until today. It was worth the wait. The Gothic architecture was awe inspiring. The extraordinary attention to detail is beyond comprehension for an impatient person like me. To imagine the hours devoted to wood-carving, glass tinting and setting, not to mention the exhaustive struggle of hauling and chiseling the stone to reveal animals, log cabins, and other symbols of American Christianity was simply breath-taking.
Following the concert, I decided to wonder the grounds a bit. The weather was perfect. The sun's rays were bursting through the clouds creating an ideal celestial backdrop. Descending the steps I discovered a courtyard with a beautiful water fountain. I love arches and decided to take advantage of the natural frame they created for the fountain.
Exiting the courtyard I passed through this corridor filled with more arches. It reminded me of a Catholic church I visited in Israel nine years ago this summer. Illuminated by the sun's rays I thought it photo-worthy.
Growing up I had a cat named Misty. For those who know my family, you may guess that, like our other pets, we never called Misty by her name. Misty over time evolved to Missy and then finally to Hiss. Misty endured thirteen years of "attention" only to disappear one day from my dad's farm. This stone pillar reminded me of her. If you look closely, you may notice that the birds on either side of the cat are pecking it. Unlike the stone kitty this is a fate Misty narrowly escaped.One afternoon, Misty followed my mother and I on our evening walk through the neighborhood. While we were walking all these birds starting dive-bombing our feline friend. Until that time, my mom and I had never witnessed birds do something like that. We still talk about it to this day.
They say black is the signature color for Washington and today that statement seemed to ring true. Not only did Kristi and I have black on but Mamma Harbour, Sokpal and what seemed like a majority of the women in the congregation were sporting black. I decided to post this photo so my friends could see the dress I purchased to replace the bridesmaid dress my brother's fiance is trying to force me to wear to the wedding. I think this dress is more elegant and definitely more modest. Unlike the bridesmaid ensemble, I will wear this dress repeatedly.
They say black is the signature color for Washington and today that statement seemed to ring true. Not only did Kristi and I have black on but Mamma Harbour, Sokpal and what seemed like a majority of the women in the congregation were sporting black. I decided to post this photo so my friends could see the dress I purchased to replace the bridesmaid dress my brother's fiance is trying to force me to wear to the wedding. I think this dress is more elegant and definitely more modest. Unlike the bridesmaid ensemble, I will wear this dress repeatedly.
When I get married I am not having bridesmaids; end of story. Weddings are the biggest pain in the choo-choo train ever. The wedding industry is a machine designed to convince women into spending money on an event that lasts thirty minutes or so only to generate or accumulate more debt then they had prior to the occasion. Eloping is the only way to fight the system, which is exactly what I am going to do. SLC, Nauvoo, Hong Kong (makes no difference) or Bust!!
Ahem... As I was saying, the National Cathedral was beautiful and I felt very fortunate to attend the organ concert on the seventh Sunday after Pentecost, which seems like it could be significant because it involves the number seven and occurred in the seventh month in the two-thousand and seventh year or perhaps I am an idolatrous sign-seeker who needs to repent. Either way, if anyone is interested in taking a tour of the lovely Gothic behemoth I would be happy to join them.
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